


The Visitor and The Host

by susurrate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22750030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susurrate/pseuds/susurrate
Summary: The only person clever enough, charming enough, and handsome enough to convince Gilderoy Lockhart to love himself...is Gilderoy Lockhart.
Relationships: Gilderoy Lockhart/Gilderoy Lockhart
Comments: 11
Kudos: 14
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	The Visitor and The Host

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PacificRimbaud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacificRimbaud/gifts).



> This story dedicated with love to PacificRimbaud for providing such an inspiring prompt.  
> #LoveFest2020 #TeamEros

Dumbledore smiled benignly as his latest machination unfolded. Hiring Lockhart as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would teach so many: students would learn what not to do, how not to be, and the world would learn that Gilderoy was a charlatan.

As the Headmaster cheerily toured the little parasite through the castle’s staff-only areas, he highlit certain storage facilities that would normally remain restricted until a new employee earned the privilege of access. But Lockhart was such a special case; Dumbledore wanted to give him all the rope he needed to hang himself.

Dumbledore pretended to be oblivious when Lockhart counted the phials of Professor Sprout’s Blue Thistlemilk and made obvious inquiries as to how often it was stocked. The Headmaster allowed the password to Professor Vector’s runic cabinet to be easily observed. But even baiting Lockhart into getting himself in trouble did not prepare Dumbledore for the man’s peak moment of impudent recklessness: Gilderoy Lockhart’s clumsy sleight-of-hand theft from Professor McGonagall’s glass hutch. 

With a twinkle in his eyes, Dumbledore allowed Lockhart to believe he’d gotten away with it. He thought to himself, _I may need his replacement available sooner than anticipated, if Minerva kills him..._

As the tour completed, the Headmaster supplied Lockhart with his teaching schedule and showed him to his living quarters. He bid the man good night.

*

Gilderoy examined his new room as soon as Dumbledore left. Humble, ordinary, but he could fix that quite easily. He cast a quick detection charm for any surveillance jinxes. Finding himself in true privacy, he took out his stolen treasure in giddy triumph. 

He had been shocked to learn that Minerva McGonagall had a Ministry sanctioned time-turner loaned indefinitely to the school for allocation to one pupil each year. “An incredible opportunity for select students to increase their class loads beyond linear time’s allowances,” Dumbledore had called it. What a ridiculous, foolish waste!

He held the time-turner reverently in his palm and wondered how he could best take advantage. In theory, each turn should move time by one hour….if he flicked it hard enough, could he travel weeks? Perhaps even months, maybe years? He would need to learn its limits before he could create any ultimate plans for it.

Without considering the consequences, Gilderoy let greed flick the time-turner as hard as he could. It spun wildly, and as reality blurred and shifted around him, he realized he’d accidentally spun it clockwise instead of counter-clockwise. Did that matter?

It took the space of several deep breaths for the world around him to return into focus. 

“I wondered when you would arrive next,” said a familiar melodious voice.

Lockhart turned…and saw himself. 

“What do you mean?” the traveler asked, clinging tightly to the time-turner. He looked around the room and saw it decorated in swooping lilac fabrics canopying the ceiling and draping the walls, his favourite cheval floor mirror perched in one corner, and all the common school candles replaced with his specialty candles made from a mix of Bulgarian rose and Indian Jasmine oils. This was definitely still his room, which meant he had gone forward in time.

The other Lockhart watched his visitor trying to verify his location. “Ohh,” Lockhart breathed, his eyes widening in surprised understanding. “This is your first time, isn’t it?”

The traveler’s brows furrowed delicately in confusion. “Er, yes. I’m just testing the time-turner’s limits. I’m sorry to have interrupted you, I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

The host smiled. “After tonight, you’ll come find me dozens upon dozens of times.” The traveler wasn’t sure what to make of that. Perhaps they were co-conspirators in a scheme? 

Summoning two teacups and a long amber bottle of elf wine, the host insisted, “Please, take a seat, be comfortable.”

“Thank you,” the visitor said and noticed there was a round table with two chairs. As he sat, the host directed the teacups to the table and had the bottle pour itself. He moved his chair to be next to his guest instead of across, and took a polite sip from the steaming cup.

The visitor examined the teacup in his hands. It wasn’t something he currently owned; he wondered where he would get it from. 

The host smiled gently, easily reading the curiosity in his visitor. “You brought me these teacups the first time I met you. You said I would need them for the first time _you_ would meet _me_.” He sighed into his cup. “Time is such a strange thing…as malleable as memory.” 

“I don’t understand,” the traveler admitted. “You’re saying I met you before my first time meeting you? How…?”

The host chuckled warmly. “Your second visit was the first time that I, ‘future Lockhart’, receive you as a visitor. Spinning the time-turner ahead by a couple days allows for better control and linearity to our meetings, so we never have such a long gap as this first visit…You’ve travelled about eight months from when you were first hired. Which means I’ve met with you over a hundred times already.” He smiled. “It’s confusing, I know.”

The visitor took a long, contemplative drink of his elf wine. It was a comfort, having an excuse to cover the silence, a chance to think and prepare his words. “Why do I keep returning to find you?”

The host beamed. _Careful_ , he reminded himself. _Remember how confused you were. Remember what you needed._ He tempered his joy and offered to refill his cup. His visitor accepted graciously. “Two reasons,” the host began his answer, starting with the easiest layer. “We work together.” 

His visitor nodded. “A scheme, then?”

“No,” the host murmured. “No schemes, no tricks…not with us.”

The traveler raised a dubious eyebrow, but soon smiled and accepted his host’s words as true. “Alright…Please continue.”

“We’ve crafted an important work together. Our unparalleled expertise in memory has lead us to produce extraordinary theories about time’s nature. It’s a work that couldn’t be accomplished with any other combination of minds but ours.”

“These theories,” the visitor questioned hesitatingly, “We didn’t steal them? They’re actually ours? And…They’re good?” 

“They’re brilliant,” Lockhart crooned. “The work is 100% authentically ours. I never could have done it without you. And you couldn’t have without me.”

The traveler smiled and repeated musingly, “100% authentically ours…that’s like a dream.”

“Yes,” the host agreed, the sound almost like a moan. He quickly drank from his cup.

“Has our work reached infamy?”

The host flinched. “It’s not been published yet. I want it to be perfect before anyone else sees it. It’s so close…But I can’t share it with the public until it’s ready.”

The visitor nodded sagely. “I remember in school—“

“Yes, we could never attempt a new spell in front of the class—“

“Unless I knew I could perform it perfectly.” The two men smiled at each other in complete understanding.

The visitor drank, the texture of the porcelain like a pearl under his fingertips, the elf wine beginning to relax his muscles. “You said there was another reason?”

“Yes, I did,” the host said with a sappy smile. “We’re involved, you and I.”

The traveler laughed nervously. “That’s preposterous,” he denied, quickly standing from the table to step back from his other self. “We’re the same person, we can’t be ‘involved’.”

The host slowly stood from the table with a beatific smile. “And yet…who could possibly resist me? Who could ever resist you?” He strode toward his visitor, languid steps confident. “You’ve always said, anyone with a pulse and even those without must recognize your attractiveness. And I do. I revere it.”

The traveler took a step back. “Wait,” he whispered, unsure why the word came so quietly. “This…this is too strange. It simply isn’t done.”

“You forget who you’re talking to,” the host whispered. “You don’t have to perform, I’m not an audience. You don't have to feign what’s expected of you to maintain your reputation.” The host noted the look of exposure in his visitor’s eyes. “You’re safe with me. I will always keep your secrets. Now, tell me: does this truly feel strange, or _enticing_?”

The visitor was silent as the truth rose gooseflesh along his arms.

In a husky, knowing voice, the host asked: “Are you handsome?”

“Yes…”

“Then I am handsome. Are you sensual?”

“I…Yes.”

The host stepped closer. “Then I am sensual.” 

The visitor felt his heart beat faster. 

“Think about all the times you’ve had women,” the host said. “None of them as beautiful as you. None of them capable of worshipping you the way you deserve.” He ached to reach out and hold the man, but knew he had to wait. “I know what I want. Which means I know what you want.”

For a moment, the traveler imagined the possibilities and immediately felt heat rush to his face. He was afraid of how tempted he was. 

“You want devotion,” Lockhart whispered. The traveler felt his knees weaken at the truth of that statement. “You and I, this, is the most meaningful relationship I’ve ever had. With you, with me, we are fulfilled in ways we never knew possible.”

The visitor swallowed hard. 

“We have always lived in such isolation,” the host whispered, knowing his other would lean in to hear. “Our years of thievery, the lengths we’ve gone to to make the world notice us…it means we’ve never been able to trust another living soul with who we are, what we’ve done. The only person we can ever trust completely is ourself. You, me…we crave the attention of the world, but can never let anyone come close to us. I know your loneliness, for it was mine.” The host was an inch apart from his visitor. “The last eight months have been a balm for my soul. Being with you is everything I’ve ever needed.” He leaned to brush his lips against his visitor’s ear. “And I am everything you’ve ever needed.”

The visitor let one hand reach up and cup the back of his host’s neck. “You can never leave me or betray me…”

“Exactly,” the host whispered, and kissed just below his earlobe.

The visitor felt something inside him yield, a barrier to the rest of the world he had grown so accustomed to that he had forgotten its weight until it was finally relinquished. “Ohhh…” he sighed in gratitude. “Please…”

The host swept his love in a bridal hold and deposited him adoringly onto the bed. The visitor moaned and stretched out, wanting to give full access to his body. The host kissed him deeply, firmly, not giving any room for uncertainty in his visitor. The traveler was surprised at how good it felt, how natural…Their bodies pressed close together, legs entwining. When the visitor felt his host’s stiffening cock against his thigh, he pulled back in alarm. His host chuckled warmly. “It’s okay,” he assured him. “It’s just me, it’s just you, it’s okay.”

“I’ve never…I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Yes you do,” the host purred. “You know better than anyone.” The confidence in the man’s voice made the visitor’s own cock fill. He always enjoyed being considered an expert. 

Hands clung and clutched across shoulders, backs, waists, as the men slowly claimed each other. The host rubbed the other man’s cock through his trousers. 

“Oh, fuck,” Gilderoy moaned into his host’s mouth. His host smiled and pushed his tongue between the man’s lips, his hand rubbing harder but still deviously slowly.

“Too much--” the traveler insisted urgently. The host pulled up, and the traveler huffed, “Too much clothing!” The host laughed and helped peel the clothes from their bodies.

Naked, the host immediately gripped the traveler’s cock and pumped it in a corkscrew motion. The traveler reached forward, and hesitated. He had never been able to love himself before--but maybe he could learn to love this version of himself. He kissed his host deeply, and gripped the cock in front of him. Soon their movements synchronized, and they were groaning and writhing together. 

“I want you to fuck me,” the host whispered. 

“Yes,” the visitor panted, amazed at how desperately he wanted this. He looked up and saw a small bedside table, and opened the top drawer. Just as he had predicted, he found a fat jar of lubricant. 

“You’ll never know another the way you know me,” the host said smugly. 

“Now that I’ve found you, I don’t think I’d ever want to know another.” He slicked his fingers and traced little circles against the man’s opening, probing slightly in and rubbing more circles, until he finally sank one finger deep within the man. Slowly…slowly…he worked his host until the man was begging incoherently for him.

“I need you, please, more, _oh fuck_ , please…”

The visitor lined himself up and pushed the head of his cock into the man’s arse, groaning at the heat and letting his head fall back from the overwhelming unity he felt with this person. He thrust fast and dirty, and stared deep into beautiful blue eyes.

“Promise me you’ll always find me,” the host pleaded into his neck as he pressed kisses to his skin.

“I promise,” the visitor groaned, “Always, I’ll find you, you’re with me…”

They came together.

*

 **The Visitor’s Ending:**  
Within the next hour, the visitor Lockhart would be snapped back to his own timeline, and would eagerly begin writing Owl inquiries to the finest tea shops in Japan. He had seen his future, and he was ready to build his life toward the love and security he now knew would always be there for him.

 **The Host’s Ending:**   
The next day, the host Lockhart will attempt to Obliviate Ron and Harry with a broken wand, and his spell will ricochet. Lockhart will lose all his memories and will be admitted to the St. Mungo’s Permanent Resident Ward. His fingers will forever flick the air, the motion of activating the time-turner, a residual bodily-memory. But the motion will never bring him answers or relief. He will never find himself again.


End file.
